


Of Fertile Hills and Bountiful Lands

by silverflash



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Human, Gen, Nordipalooza, Nordipalooza 2014, Nyotalia, Puns & Word Play, brief mention of consensual sex between an underage character and an overage character, they're underage/overage depending on your country's age of consent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-25
Updated: 2015-06-25
Packaged: 2018-04-06 03:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4206888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverflash/pseuds/silverflash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fem!Denmark and Finland go out drinking and it all culminates in geographical euphemisms. And apparently these two can have serious moments together? Anyway, there's pickled herring, a trainee mechanic, and a truly terrible pun towards the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Fertile Hills and Bountiful Lands

**Author's Note:**

> Fem!Denmark - Freja  
> Finland - Timo  
> Sweden - Berwald  
> Estonia - Eduard  
> Norway - Lukas
> 
> There is a brief mention of a consensual loss of virginity of an underage character to an adult. (The age of consent where I'm from is 16 - if it is above 17 where you live, they are both underage.)
> 
> Casual transphobic language is used where vaginas are equated to womanhood and penises to manhood.

    “Bullshit!” Freja Køhler waved her beer around wildly in a vague attempt to further articulate her point. It was completely unhelpful. “Utter, utter bullshit. You know that, right, Timo?” She turned to her small Finnish friend, who seemed to be doing his best to avoid the lager flying dangerously out of her glass.
    
    “Yeah, sure,” he replied in the agreeing way of someone who’d like it a lot if the person they were talking to were to shut up. In Timo’s case, this was because far too many people in the pub were staring at them, and it made him really uncomfortable. “But, um, could you quieten down? It’s just that everyone’s looking at us - well, actually, they’re mainly looking at you - but even so, it’d be great if -” He was cut off by Freja rolling her eyes and clunking her beer down on the bar. Some of it sloshed over the top, but Freja didn’t seem to notice. To be fair, she’d had a fair few drinks in the last few hours, and so in the grand scheme of things this small amount of wasted alcohol was negligible. Instead, she was looking deep into Timo’s eyes with a small thoughtful frown, as though she was a scientist and he a particularly fascinating specimen. Suddenly, she straightened, and held one finger up, a little ‘aha!’ of realisation.
    
    “You, my fine Finnish friend…” she paused as her alcohol-addled brain tried to get to grips with the wonders of alliteration, “need to lighten up. These fuckers aren’t looking at me; they’re looking at you because of how goddamn cute you are. Not that I’d know,” she added thoughtfully. “I mean, you’re… fuck, what’s the word? Eh, I can’t remember. Anyway, the point is, even though I like vagina, I can still appreciate that you’re fucking adorable.” Timo made a small embarrassed face and brushed his hair out of his eyes, flustered.
    
    “You get really _weird_ when you’re drunk, you know,” he said. Then, in a slight panic at Freja’s one raised eyebrow, “Not that you’re _actually_ weird, not even strange, really, a little eccentric, sure, at times, but you’re mostly pretty normal, actually… _jumalauta._ ” Timo lent over to bury his flaming face in his arms. It was pretty hot in here, huh. To be fair, the presence of Freja in one of her annoying moods was sure to raise his core body temperature by at least a few degrees, which was probably medically worrying.

    
    Timo flushed even more as Freja laughed uproariously, reaching over to slap him on the back rather forcefully.
    
    “You,” she said, “are far too sober. And far too cute when you swear in Finnish. But mostly sober.” Timo flopped back up and his crossed his arms angrily, which was perhaps his most aggressive action all night.
    
    “And why’s that? It’s because someone - and by someone, I mean you - managed to irritate Berwald, which is, like, about equivalent in difficulty to surviving a bullet to the heart. And now someone - and by someone, I mean _me_ \- has to replace him as designated driver, because someone - and by someone, I mean _you,_ again - didn’t want to do the time for her crimes.” Freja tried to stand up indignantly, but once she found out that the room swayed disconcertingly when she did that she sat back down again.
    
    “Making _one_ butthurt Swede refuse to drive us to pubs isn’t the same as committing a crime, Timo.” Timo scowled.
    
     “Say that next time when it’s your turn to drive and you haven’t practically replaced your blood with beer.” Freja pulled a face and started to mimic Timo, doing an over the top Finnish accent and tucking her hair behind his ear, which he did constantly when he got nervous. She only broke character once Timo had let out a grudging snort of amusement. “You’re so stupid,” he said, leaning back on his stool.
    
    “Look, I know you’re still kinda grouchy about the whole ‘pissing off Berwald’ thing. But I really couldn’t help it, you know how much he ticks me off, and he hardly ever says anything and when he does it’s in that stupid fuckin’ accent of his and -”
    
    “I still don’t know why you thought it’d be a good idea to fill his bed with pickled herring.” Freja stopped abruptly and looked for a horrible moment like she was going to burst out laughing. Then, she looked up at Timo with an expression that was somewhere between coy and down-right malicious. She spoke as though she were a millimetre away from bursting out laughing .
    
    “I… I, um - I thought it would remind him of home?” Her voice raised in pitch so much at the end of the tentative question that Timo was sure dogs all over the world were howling in reply. Timo raised one eyebrow and Freja winced, before continuing hurriedly. “It’s just that, you know, he’s from Sweden, and I thought he might feel more at home if I - okay I’m sorry stophittingmeyou _dick_!” He finally stopped once Freja’s dramatic flailing had almost caused her to fall off her stool, prompting all people within a metre of her erratic limbs to dive into an safe zone. Timo picked up Freja’s beer delicately and moved it a little further away from her, causing an injured look to make its way onto her face.
    
     “Think you’ve had enough,” he said.
    
    “Nooooo, Timo, think about what you’re doing!” Freja whinged childishly, reaching for the beer. “You don’t understand, I need that beer. It’s my favourite one, I can’t leave it all alone like that - it’ll be lonely!” Timo laughed, lifting it out of reach of her grabbing hands.
    
    “You _need_ that beer, do you?” Freja nodded and made another attempt for it. Timo slid the beer along the bar further away from her. “Freja, what you actually need is some paracetamol and possibly a membership to the AA.”
    
     “Huh? Nah, Timo, can’t drive when you’re drunk, you should _know_ that. Ooh, maybe they could tow us home!” Timo sighed and slipped over to Freja, heaving one arm over his shoulder to support her as they started to amble out of the pub.
    
    “I was talking about Alcoholics Anonymous, you know.”
    
    “Oh. That makes more sense.” Freja lurched as her stomach reminded her of its presence. “I don’t - I don’t feel too good, Timo.” There was a long pause.
    
    “…Please don’t throw up in my car. Again.” A weak laugh, followed by a pained cough.
    
    “Can’t make any promises there, sweetheart.” Timo swore under his breath in Finnish and continued to lug his friend down the orange-lit street towards where the car was parked, muttering ominously under his breath. Freja’s drunken mind didn’t get much of it, apart from to quickly catch what sounded suspiciously like ‘pickled herrings, _honestly_ ’. She grinned with the side of her face which was still doing what she told it to, but this was soon forgotten as her mind turned to other things. After a lot of almost staggering into bins and curses which would have made even the stoic Lukas blush, they reached the car. Timo stumbled over to the right hand side with Freja and opened the door, bodily throwing her in. He hadn’t meant to, of course, but carrying what was practically dead weight around meant that his arms were bound to give up on him at some point. Unfortunately, doing so had caused his hand to come into contact - not particularly lightly, either - with Freja’s chest. She looked up at him with a scandalised expression.
    
    “Timo!” She said, slipping into the stereotypical drawl of the south of the USA, or at least, as much as it was possible in Danish. “What do you take me for? Some kinda low-born _hussy_? I ain’t no prostitute, sir.” Timo rolled his eyes and went round the other side of the car to get in. When he opened the door and sat down, Freja was still rambling on, although thankfully she had returned to her normal accent. “- the thief of my innocence, stealer of my coveted virginity, of my fertile hills and bountiful lands -”
    
     “You lost your virginity when you were fifteen to that seventeen year-old trainee mechanic. You knew her for three days.”
    
    “Timo!” Freja gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. “That isn’t true at all, you big liar!” She dropped the act a few seconds later and shrugged, looking vaguely pleased with herself. “It was two and a half days, not three.”
    
    “For God’s sak-”
    
    “That notwithstanding,” here Freja paused, giving herself some time to recover from such a long word, “you still took advantage of me and touched my bountiful lands -”
    
    “Bountiful lands? What are all these geography euphemisms? I was right, you do get really weird when you’re drunk - and it was, like, an accident?”
    
    “It’s not for you to question me, because if I want to compare my… _features_ , to geographical features, then I will - even if it was an accident, Timo, I still would have rather if it had been someone, you know, without a di-” Timo laughed, cutting her off.
    
    “Bountiful lands? What bountiful lands? Denmark is almost completely _flat_. Then again, I suppose that’s not altogether unlike you.”
    
     “Oh, _fuck you_ , Timo Väinä, Väinämöi - for fuck’s sake, Finnish names are impossible, give me a solid _Jensen_ or _Nielsen_ any day.” Timo didn’t say anything, and just smiled over at Freja, the lull in the conversation somewhat calming. Freja didn’t say anything for a moment, but then looked up slowly at Timo. She looked calm too, for a moment, but then her face screwed up into an expression of distaste. “You’re going to make us have one of those ‘friendship’ moments now, aren’t you? Tiiiiiiiiimo, you know that I hate those, it gets so awkward because I don’t know what to say and you just sit there looking at me and then I start to ramble on just like I’m doing right now fuck -”
    
     Timo laughed and reached over to ruffle Freja’s hair fondly.
    
    “I forgive you,” he said.
    
    “-and then it feels sort of patronising but it isn’t and I always say something to spoil it and - what?” Freja turned round, a confused look on her face. “What do you forgive me for?” Timo sighed and spoke to her like she was a small child.
    
    “For making me be the designated driver because you put pickled herring in Berwald’s bed, Freja. I forgive you.”
    
    “And there it is. There’s the patronising.” Timo came the closest to smirking that he possibly ever had in his life, but still remained quiet. After a few drawn out moments, it was too much for Freja and she started flushing. Timo looked at her knowingly.
    
    “Shut up. Shut up shut up shut up.”
    
    “… I didn’t say anything.”
    
    “It was all in the eyes, Timo!”
    
    “Aww, does little Freja feel embarrassed?”
    
    “I feel sick,” she muttered, crossing her arms, and didn’t specify whether it was her drunkenness or the ‘friendship’ moment that had made her feel that way. They sat there in the darkened car and Timo closed his eyes, listening to the sound of their quiet breathing. He wasn’t sure how long it was until he suddenly felt the cold ‘whoosh’ of the air conditioning being flicked on, but he closed his eyes tighter and tensed his arms, which had erupted into goosebumps.
    
    A palm, hot and sweaty, hovered lightly on his bare arm for a few seconds, and then tightened its grip to squeeze in a comforting fashion a few times.
    
     _I forgive you_.
    
     Timo let out a deep breath and every muscle in his body relaxed. He slowly opened his eyes to see Freja smiling at him hesitantly.
    
    “Okay?” She said. A beat.
    
    “Okay.”
    
    Timo started up the car’s engine and started to drive home. He and Freja never did well with serious, and already he could feel a sense of unease settling in.
    
    “Promise me one thing, Freja.” A questioning ‘hmm?’. Timo looked over at her for a second and grinned.
    
    “Lay off the pickled herring, okay?” Freja snorted quietly. “You understand?”
    
    “Sure, sure,” she said, waving her hand in a blasé fashion. “No more pickled herring, blah-di-blah...”
    
    “I mean it.”
    
    “I know! Wow, it’s like you don’t trust me or something.” A pause.
    
    “…You’ve already done something, haven’t you.” Freja’s laughter was very similar to a cackle and Timo swore, speeding up so that he might be able to save Berwald from his ultimately fishy fate. In the end, it was of course, too late.
    
     _God_ , it was hard being the one who kept the peace sometimes.
    
    

* * *

    Berwald was suspicious. He had had dinner, and there had been no pickled herring expertly hidden in his food. He had watched TV, and he hadn’t found half a pickled herring underneath the cushion or on top of the remote. He’d pulled back his duvet to find his bed strangely empty of any kind of fish. He couldn’t even smell anything weird in his room. It was all too… safe.
    He didn’t like it.
    
    He hunted all over the kitchen and then the lounge for any sign of herring, but there was nothing there. At this point, Berwald was starting to get panicked. To be honest, he’d have almost preferred it if Freja had just put it in one of the usual places. At least then he could have had got it over with, had a shower and been in bed by now. But no, he had had to resort to spending his evening looking for fish hidden by his devil of a flatmate.
    
    Berwald pulled open a cupboard door with a sense of bravado and leapt out of the way, expecting a torrent of fish to come falling down on him. Nothing. There was nothing there. He couldn’t believe it, so he suspended his disbelief for a second, if only to be able to calm down for the first time in a very, very long time. His hunched over shoulders relaxed. They kind of hurt, actually, from being so tense all evening. Perhaps a hot shower would do the trick to help them loosen up. Berwald started to make his way over to the bathroom. Freja had probably just forgotten, with her excitement of going out drinking without him being so great. Ah well. There were some advantages to being disliked, after all. Berwald opened the bathroom door and stepped inside.
    
    Pickled herring started to rain down on him from above. Berwald clenched his eyes shut as tight as possible; it stood to reason that if he couldn’t see it happening, then it wasn’t. The herring, which had a texture which was just slimy enough to be nauseating, slithered down his skin, little pieces getting stuck in his hair, and as a final indignity, a bucket fell off the top of the door and landed with a thud on Berwald’s head.
    
    Berwald made a very small, very defeated sound.
    
    He slowly lifted the bucket far enough off his head so that it was no longer covering his eyes, and saw the red light of a small camera blinking up at him. A second of utter humiliation, and then he let the bucket fall and cover his face again.
    
    God. He really _hated_ Freja sometimes. He really, really did.
    

* * *

     In a car roughly ten minutes away, a phone went off. Freja fumbled around in her bag, and once she had found it, entered the password. _1 New Message From:_ _Eduard_. Excited, Freja opened the message and scanned it quickly. She let out a whoop of laughter and clicked the link, which went to Youtube. A few minutes in, she had to pause it because she was breathless with laughter.
    
    _1 New Message From: Eduard_
     _Operation ‘Buck-it’ a success. Over and out!_  

**Author's Note:**

> So, I wrote this for Nordipalooza 2014 last year and thought that I might as well upload it.
> 
> I also wanna say that I wrote the "Okay?" "Okay" bit (I think???) before the whole TFiOS thing kicked off. I DIDN'T MEAN TO BE UNORIGINAL, I SWEAR. 
> 
> There're a few parts of this where I'm a bit >:-( at what I wrote (if I were to write this again I definitely wouldn't include the transphobic language that Freja uses - although it's perfectly possible for her as a character to use transphobic language, I feel a little uncomfortable with her using it when there's no real reason for her to do so, particularly as her doing so isn't punished by the narrative in any way). However, there are still some parts of this that I quite like, so I thought that as long as I posted it with a warning it should be alright. If I have any trans readers who would like me to give further warnings/edit it so the transphobic language isn't included/take the story down, then just say and I will do so.
> 
> Also! Finnish readers - do I have any? who knows - the Finnish in this is... probably not great. If you have any corrections, fire away!
> 
> (Buck-it is meant to be a play on words of 'Bucket' and 'Fuck it'. 2014 me thought that pun was slightly more funny/easy to understand than 2015 me does.)


End file.
